


Blood To Wild Blood

by Suzie_Shooter



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-25
Updated: 2012-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-31 17:43:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the people who are supposed to protect you let you down, who do you turn to?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood To Wild Blood

The basement club was crowded and smoky; confusingly loud with the babble of voices and music each trying to outdo the other. Eyes followed Alex through the room, some covertly, others openly staring. 

This wasn't a place you came for a quiet drink. Or without someone to vouch for you.

More than once, he was sure he recognised faces he'd seen in files, black and white shots from a zoom lens, stills made technicolour and animated.

They knew who he was, too.

He was perfectly aware how much danger he was in, just by being here. Was past caring.

Alex ordered a vodka, and threw it back in one. Waited for the dull burn to take the edge off the hollow ache inside, and when it didn’t he ordered another.

Moved through the club, apparently aimlessly, but slowly working his way through the whole place. Conscious of one or two that were following him now, while trying to look like they weren't. 

Some remaining shred of self-preservation finally made him head for the door. The man he'd been looking for wasn't here after all. Uncomfortably aware of the jackals trailing him.

Outside, cold night air, steam from a ventilation grille, puddles in the deserted alleyway splashing up on his trouser legs. 

Footsteps behind him. 

He didn’t turn. Fuck it. What was the point. Maybe this was all it was ever going to come to, a knife in a dark Eastern European alley. 

Closed his eyes.

Heard the footsteps come to a sudden halt, as if they'd run into something. At the same time some sixth sense told him there was now somebody in front of him, somebody who'd made the jackals from the club pause.

Something worse than them, then. Some _one_.

"He's with me." 

Alex's eyes flew open, but the man was looking past him, coldly. From behind, an angry objection in a language he didn’t know – Polish? – and the figure before him responded in the same, words unknown but their meaning unequivocal. _Back off._

Behind him, footsteps receded, ending with a slamming door. Only then, did the man meet his eyes, the same cold stare giving nothing away.

"Are you so eager to die?" 

Alex just shrugged, and he frowned. "You were stupid to come here. Did you think they would not know you?" His frown deepened. "What were you doing in there?"

"Looking for you."

The reply prompted a burst of scornful laughter. 

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I don’t give a flying fuck what you believe." 

Yassen looked briefly amused. Reached out a hand, stroked one thumb across Alex's lower lip. "Such language from such a pretty mouth." 

Alex shivered, and knew Yassen had noted it. Glared back, about to retort, when somewhere in the distance the door banged open again and the sound of voices floated to them on the air. Alex couldn’t make out the words, but Yassen clearly could, as his expression reverted to its customary brooding, and he grabbed Alex by the arm.

"Come."

Perhaps he'd expected Alex to resist, but he followed him through a maze of alleys without objection; Yassen letting go his wrist once he became satisfied that Alex really wasn't going to make a break for it.

\--

The pursuit had long died away, and Alex was flagging. Typically, Yassen didn’t seem remotely out of breath, and he glared at the Russian's back.

"How much further?"

Yassen threw a look back at him and almost smiled. Almost. "In here." 

He unlocked a forbidding looking metal door at the foot of an equally dismal looking tower block, and lead Alex inside. Up five flights of stairs, and down a corridor with only one flickering bulb. There was graffiti on the apartment door he opened, and Alex wrinkled his nose. 

"Where the hell are we?"

"Safety," was all Yassen would say, stepping back to let him in first.

Inside, Alex blinked. It was warm, and dry, and while sparsely furnished, perfectly clean. Behind him, Yassen re-locked and then bolted the door, with an impressively industrial looking set of fastenings. He slid the key into his pocket, and Alex raised an eyebrow.

"Afraid I'll run?"

"Not any more." Yassen crossed the floor in two quick strides and Alex found himself suddenly slammed back against the wall, Yassen's hand spread in the middle of his chest, holding him there with an effortless ease that Alex resented. 

"Now, perhaps we try again. What were you doing there?" Yassen asked in a low, dangerous voice.

"I told you. I was looking for you," Alex breathed, heart slamming in his chest and not sure if it was the sudden winding from hitting the wall, or just the proximity of Yassen.

"Why?"

Alex licked his lips, even now unwilling to voice the truth of it. 

"Because there wasn't anyone else I could go to," he muttered, finally.

Yassen was staring at him, as if weighing up the truth of Alex's words. He didn’t move his hand away, but the pressure eased almost imperceptibly. 

"What could possibly have happened to make _me_ your last resort?" he asked, mockingly.

Alex held his gaze. "They set me up."

"Who?"

"MI6. They used me as _bait_ ," Alex spat. "They sent me out and expected me to die, because the target was worth more to them than I was."

"Their people have always been very – expendable." Yassen smiled faintly. "Almost Russian in their approach."

"I'm glad you think it's funny!" Alex snarled. "I _trusted_ them! I let them use me, and – and – "

"And so, they used you," Yassen finished for him, quietly. He removed his hand from Alex's chest, and watched as he sagged slightly. "But you didn't die."

" _Clearly_."

"That still doesn’t explain what you're doing here."

"They've got someone following me," Alex replied, defeatedly. "They thought I double-crossed them because I got out. I think they're actually trying to kill me." He looked up, and almost laughed. "I've had it with them. With all of it."

"So – you came here, what, to betray them?" Yassen smiled, then shook his head. "I do not think so. So why? You think I will protect you? Or because at least you _know_ you cannot trust me?" 

Alex sighed. "Don't tease me. I'm not in the mood."

Suddenly, Yassen's hand was back, this time round his throat. Alex sucked in a startled breath, but the fingers didn't tighten, just rested hot against his skin.

"What _are_ you in the mood for, Alex?" Yassen leaned closer, until Alex could feel the warmth of his body. Alex swallowed, aware of the fingers pressing against his throat as he did so.

"Yassen," he whispered, holding the Russian's gaze, not pulling away from his touch.

The hand slid from his throat, slowly down over his chest, his stomach. 

"Tell me what it is you want Alex." 

"You." 

Yassen raised an eyebrow.

"To do – what?" The hand moving on downwards, over Alex's groin, fingers cupping him now. "To kill someone, perhaps?"

Alex could feel himself growing hard under Yassen's light touch, knew he would be just as aware of it. Licked suddenly dry lips again.

"To hurt me," he whispered. "To make me feel alive."

Yassen's hand tightened on his crotch and he gasped, a throb of arousal making his cock swell and thicken.

"Be careful what you ask for, little one." Yassen's breath tickled along his jaw, and Alex could only just keep from whimpering.

" _Please_." 

At Alex's shaky whisper, Yassen finally closed the remaining gap between them and pressed his mouth to Alex's lips. He felt the warm probing tongue exploring his mouth, and a hard body pressing against his own.

Then Yassen pulled back and looked at him consideringly.

"You've been drinking." 

Hard to tell if it was a question or an accusation. 

"Trying to dull the pain."

Swiftly, Yassen cast a professional eye over him. "You are injured?" 

Alex gave a short humourless laugh. "Not what I meant." 

"Ah." For a brief, fleeting moment, the look in Yassen's eyes could almost have been sympathy. But before Alex could be certain, it had bled out to sheer, calculating lust.

Yassen kissed him again, hungrily, sucking at Alex's lower lip, but it wasn't enough. Alex pressed forward, deepening the kiss, then bit down, sharply.

With a hiss, Yassen pulled back, startled. Touched a hand to his lip, looked from the blood on his fingers to Alex. Nodded, slowly. 

"If that is how you want it."

The hand twisting in his hair made Alex cry out in pain, as Yassen propelled him through an internal door into what appeared to be a bedroom. It held no furniture, just a mattress on the floor, with a pile of neatly folded blankets. 

With a violent shove, Yassen sent Alex tumbling forwards, sprawling onto the mattress. Before he could right himself, the weight of Yassen's body was pinning him down, and an insistent mouth was kissing its way down the back of his neck, yanking his shirt back until he thought it might choke him, the kisses moving over his bared shoulder, turning into nips, teeth grazing his skin, Yassen's mouth reaching the point where Alex's neck and shoulder met – and biting.

Alex cried out again, couldn’t help himself. Aware of the sharp pain dulling to a throb, Yassen sucking at the wound he'd made, hands roaming over Alex's body, finding his shirt buttons, breaking half of them off in his haste.

Yassen pulled at Alex roughly until he was lying on his back, then straddled his legs. Ripped off the rest of his shirt and raked his nails painfully down Alex's chest. 

This time Alex didn’t yell, just sank his teeth into his own lip and groaned. He could feel Yassen's erection pressing against his own, and tried to increase the contact, pushing down.

In response, Yassen slapped him sharply across the cheek. 

"Not until I say so. You understand me?" 

Alex immediately pushed down again, and the second blow was harder, the back of the Russian's hand this time. For a second Alex's vision blurred, and then he felt Yassen's hands on his belt.

His trousers were pulled down and off, his pants, socks and shoes all disappearing in the same movement, and before he knew what was happening, Yassen was winding Alex's own belt around his wrists. 

The leather cut painfully into his skin, and he moaned. 

Yassen bent over him then, kissed him hotly, insistently. Alex tasted blood, and didn’t know if it was his own from the slap or Yassen's from where he'd bitten him.

Alex's arms were yanked above his head by the belt, and Yassen pushed him face down, holding him there with a knee in his back while he stripped his own clothes off. 

Naked, he brought his hand down in an unexpected blow across the cheeks of Alex's arse, making him choke out a blasphemy. Yassen hit him again and again on the same spot, until Alex was writhing and groaning beneath him.

"Please," Alex begged, hard as a rock and eyes stinging with involuntary tears forced out by the shock of the blows.

Yassen grinned ferally, and scratched harshly across Alex's back, leaving red welts on the skin.

Knelt astride Alex's thighs, and pulled him up, hand brushing Alex's own rigid cock as he did so, eliciting a despairing moan.

Holding him in place, Yassen thrust inside Alex without warning, making him cry out in startled pain. Plunged into him again and again, rough and eager, hand twisting in Alex's hair, pulling his head back, fingers of the other hand digging bruisingly hard into his hip.

Alex could hardly breathe, hardly see. His whole world had become the man possessing him, the brutal fucking, the bruising fingers and grazing teeth marking his skin. Felt a hot pressure building in his groin, pulsing stronger with every savage thrust Yassen made deeper inside him.

His wrists were a blaze of pain, his body felt like it was on fire, and Yassen was fuelling the flames. 

Alex let himself go, falling into the black wave of agonising pleasure with something close to relief. There was nothing else to worry about any more, there was only Yassen.

Alex came hard, shaking with the force of his orgasm, spilling his release into the bare mattress. He'd never felt anything like this before, never felt so – complete.

Seconds later, he felt Yassen too shudder in climax, his seed a hot rush inside Alex's body, still plunging inside him until completely spent.

Alex felt Yassen slide out of him and lie for a moment against his back, catching his breath.

"Alex?" 

At the quiet query, Alex managed a groan, although found he was incapable of moving. Yassen's strong hands came to his rescue, rolling him onto his back, unlooping the belt. 

Yassen ran his tongue along the bruises blossoming around Alex's wrists. 

"Talk to me," he prompted, looking into Alex's flushed face, still holding Alex's hands in his.

Alex managed a wincing smile. "I think you broke me." 

Yassen laughed, softly. "It was what you wanted."

"Yes." Alex coughed, and tried to sit up. Was surprised when Yassen moved to help him, a steadying arm around his shoulders. 

The Russian leaned over and pulled the folded blankets onto the mattress, shaking them out to partly cover himself and Alex. Leaned back against the wall, Alex in his arms.

"Feeling alive yet?" Yassen asked, gently mocking.

Alex sighed, then looked surprised when it turned into a yawn. 

"I just wanted to feel – wanted," he muttered. "For me, I mean. Not because of what I could do." Yassen said nothing, just held him quietly, and after a second he continued. "Do you ever feel like all your options have run out, and there's nothing left? No-one to go to, no-one that cares?"

"It is better not to be dependant," Yassen offered after a pause.

"I can’t live like that."

"Then it is likely you won’t live." 

Yassen smiled as Alex yawned again, watching him fight to keep his eyes open. "Get some sleep little one," he murmured, pressing a kiss into Alex's hair. "For the moment, you are safe."

Alex wanted to object, to stay alert, but couldn’t fight the ridiculous feeling sweeping over him that here, finally, with a man he'd once sworn to kill, he'd found a place he could let down his guard. 

His eyes closed of their own accord, and he slept.

\--

The next morning, Alex woke to find himself sprawled alone on the mattress. He rolled over and groaned as various parts of his body protested – including his head, suggesting the vodka had had more effect then he'd realised.

He lay there for a moment, gathering his thoughts. The black despair of yesterday had gone, he discovered, although he felt a flood of embarrassment recalling the previous night. Not at what he'd done, or asked for, but at the intimacy of the fears he'd confessed in Yassen's arms afterwards.

The clink of crockery from the next room suggested the Russian hadn't abandoned him altogether, and Alex hauled himself off the mattress, wincing. 

There was a tiny bathroom off the room he was in, walls black with encroaching mould, but the shower was clean. The water was a barely lukewarm dribble, but he made the best of it, finding a towel – again, clean and folded, and he smiled – waiting for him on the cistern.

He dressed again before venturing out into the main room of the apartment, finding Yassen staring out of the tiny window, holding a mug. He turned as Alex entered the room, and nodded briefly. 

Alex could smell coffee. "Any more of that?" he asked hopefully, indicating Yassen's mug.

"In the pan on the stove. There's no milk," Yassen added, and Alex shook his head.

"That’s fine." Found a second chipped mug bearing some kind of oil company logo on a shelf and poured out the dark liquid. It was bitter, and strong, and cleared his head slightly.

He turned to find Yassen had come up behind him, and the Russian captured Alex's face in one firm hand, turning him this way and that and staring into his eyes. Finally, he nodded.

"You look better."

Alex snorted. "I look like shit." His body was covered in bruises and scratches, including the mark of Yassen's hand on his cheek where he'd hit him.

Yassen smiled slightly. "Stronger. Last night you had given up, I think."

Alex looked away awkwardly, taking refuge in sipping his coffee. "Perhaps."

"So what will you do now?" 

The practicality of the question threw Alex for a second and he looked up at Yassen helplessly.

"Honestly? I don’t know. I didn’t expect to survive yesterday to tell you the truth."

The small smile was back, playing around Yassen's lips. "I wasn't _that_ rough," he teased.

Alex found to his surprise he was laughing. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Yassen conceded the point with a tilt of the head, and turned away to rinse out his mug.

"Is this your flat?" Alex asked after a second, looking around. It was bare and impersonal, but touches like the locks on the door and the coffee in the cupboard suggested it wasn't just borrowed. 

Yassen gave a one shouldered shrug. "It is not my home. It is just something to be used."

"Like me?" murmured Alex, and Yassen walked over to him.

"Self pity is a pointless emotion," he said quietly. Alex glared at him, and he laughed. "That's better. You must keep fighting, little one." 

"Will you help me?" 

For once Yassen actually looked surprised, and Alex took a deep breath. 

"If I could bring in the man they were after in the first place, it would prove I hadn’t double crossed them. But I can’t do it alone." He looked wistful. "I could go _home,_ Yassen."

The Russian waved a hand dismissively. "And let them use you all over again? You would be better off disappearing. Make a new life."

"I liked my _old_ one!" Alex snapped indignantly and Yassen looked considering.

"You could pay me? For my – services?" 

Alex faltered. "I haven’t got any money," he confessed. "Not that I can get at."

Yassen laughed. "Then you are in deep shit, I think." Studied Alex for a second, assessingly. "You could always – pay me in kind?" he suggested, meaningfully.

"What, be your whore you mean?" Alex retorted, ignoring the immediate twitch in his boxers. 

"No. Be my property." Yassen reached out again, ran a hand down Alex's cheek. "I take care of my possessions, Alex," he murmured.

Alex stared at him. What Yassen was offering – it wasn't protection. It wasn't even sex. It was – to belong. 

"Well? Will you give yourself to me?"

It would mean becoming part of the assassin's world, a place he really didn’t want to be. It would mean giving up his independence.

It would mean what Yassen had promised when they first entered the apartment the previous evening.

Safety. 

Not of his person, but of his heart.

Alex nodded, slowly.

"Yes."

\--


End file.
